Nice Shootin' Tex
by Femme Bono
Summary: McClane gets a partner. Drabble. Rated T just to be safe.


_Just a drabble fic. I figured there needed to be a pairing besides John/Matt (nothing against slash, but I really don't get that one.) This is my first foray into this genre, so bear in mind…_

**Nice Shootin' Tex**

"Did you not hear the words come out of my mouth?" McClane asked, barely sparing his captain a backward glance as he stalked out of the office. "I don't DO partners."

"I heard ya, McClane," Brown yelled after him. "Higher ups don't care though. You're gonna love her. She was a Texas Ranger before she moved up here to the big leagues! Yee haw, huh Cowboy?"

At that, several snickers broke out in the surrounding desks, only to be covered by coughs as McClane tipped his gaze toward them. Despite the scene behind him, John McClane did not even break stride as he caught the elevator just before it closed and stepped inside to blissful silence. His dislike for elevators was nearly as strong as the debilitating fear of heights, but as the lights blinked through his descent, John was thankful for what little alone time it afforded him.

Another fucking partner, he thought.

The first call he got when he reached the safety of his car was for two shooters holed up in an Asian foods store not five blocks down from where he was cruising. He hit the lights, ignoring Brown's voice when he came over the radio to say his new partner would meet him there since he'd skipped out on their initial meeting at the precinct.

He cut the sirens a block away and hung a left into an alleyway that led past the rear of the store. Stopping behind a patrol car, he approached the two uniformed officers.

"Dispatch says there's roof access from the owner's apartment upstairs. Anybody been up?"

"Flannery and Mitchell are up on the buildings either side of here. We figured you'd be fool enough to try going in from above," grinned Jimmy Leary, shaking McClane's hand.

"Damned if I'll touch the roof if I don't have to. You go ahead. I'd just as soon kick in the back door on this one."

"Been a while since I've worked one with you. I forgot how cowboys operate." His partner Terrance Siles chuckled at this, shaking his head and piping up before McClane could deliver a comeback.

"Toole and Wright are out front staked out by their unit. They've traded a couple of shots with the guys inside, but nothing major since we all got here."

"Why the hell didn't they run out the back?" McClane questioned.

"Owner says they're both high as a kite. Came in demanding money, saw the safe and tried to shoot it open. Owner took the opportunity to run out while they were at it. Since he'd already tripped the silent alarm, we were on the way by the time shots were fired. Toole and Wright were first on the scene; we were right behind 'em."

"SWAT's on its way too," mused McClane. "There's seven of us, two of them. _Surely _we can tie this up before they get here. See if Toole and Wright will draw some fire. If both shooters are still at the front of the store, I'll head in the back. Just cover me."

Siles pressed the walkie at his shoulder and relayed the plan to Toole and Wright. Not five seconds after, Brown's voice came over commanding that McClane wait for SWAT to move in. McClane would be the one taking the heat for this, Siles thought and grinned. The man had some serious titanium testicles when it came to ignoring protocol. Good part was, the uniformed patrol never got in trouble for following his orders. He was a senior officer, so they had to listen, and if he went in guns blazing they couldn't let a fellow officer face danger alone. So he got the ass chewing and they got to share the glory. It was a win-win.

With that thought in mind, Siles stepped up to the other side of the door. When shots broke out from the front, McClane nodded, cocked his weapon and fired into the deadbolt. He kicked the door in, just above the lock and stepped in. Siles aimed his weapon in and prepared to open fire for cover while McClane stepped off to the side out of line of sight. Leary took McClane's place on the other side of the door and aimed his weapon through the dimly lit doorway.

They could make out McClane's form easing down the side wall in front of a large counter space and stepped in, flanking him down the opposite wall. They made it to the doorway separating the work room from the front of the store, and McClane mouthed silently to them to stay put before he eased open the door.

Leary crossed to stand behind McClane. When he opened the door as quietly as possible they realized something was off. McClane looked back at Leary and mouthed, "no fire?" It was true. The whole store was eerily quiet.

McClane stepped out of the doorway next to the freezer cases and then reared back as a plastic bag slipped over his head. His curse was muffled, his gun knocked from his hand as the perp drug him back across the tiled floor. Luckily he had slipped his fingers into the bag as it was tightened around his neck. The circulation to his hands was shot, but he used what little air it afforded him to fight back. He could hear shots fired and then nothing as he slipped one hand out of the narrow gap between his neck and the restricting plastic.

As the two men struggled on the floor, Siles and Leary swapped fire with the other gunman, who had taken charge of his and his cohort's weapons. Siles felt a slicing burn as one bullet grazed past his upper arm and winced, his gun firing wildly off target. Just then a shot came from behind the shooter himself and they heard the man fall to the floor with a shriek. They looked on amazed as he reached down to grasp his knee, now bloodied and bent at an impossible angle on the floor. Never lowering their weapons, the two patrolmen glanced up to see a woman stepping up to the now crying man who had dropped his weapon.

McClane, meanwhile, had jabbed his elbow into the ribs of his attacker before rearing back and cracking the man's nose with the back of his head. It smarted like a bitch, but it was enough to loosen the guy's grip and allow McClane to pull the bag off in a spin that gave him the momentum to shove his assailant through the glass door of the freezer case. "Yippee ki yay, motherfucker," he rasped out, his throat aching and swollen. A little dizzy still from lack of oxygen, he staggered down the aisle and rounded a set of shelves to where Siles and Leary were just lowering their weapons.

"Yippee ki yay is about damn right," said a sultry voice from close to the floor. He looked down to see a woman with a mass of wavy auburn hair snapping cuffs on the other gunman. "That's how we do it down in Texas."

She stood up, brushing her hands off and looked at McClane, a corner of her mouth quirking up in appraisal. "You must be my new compadre. Where's the other perp?"

"In cold storage," he replied with a smirk before offering his hand to shake. "Nice shootin', partner."


End file.
